


Interlude: Suffocating

by Tipsy_Kitty



Series: Puppy Verse [11]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 16:37:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tipsy_Kitty/pseuds/Tipsy_Kitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark keeps Jensen on pins and needles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude: Suffocating

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Livejournal 9/13/12.

Mark managed to draw out Jensen’s 12 Days of Punishment for almost a month by giving Jensen one day off between each session of torture.

The days of rest were much, much worse than the days of torture.

Mark liked to choose a different body part to focus on each time—the soles of his feet maybe, or his ass, which was almost always smarting from some whip or another. Then possibly back to his shoulders again. Each session ended with Mark asking Jensen to say he was sorry and each time Jensen told Mark to fuck off.

On his days off though, Jensen could be heard tearfully apologizing over and over again and begging Mark for forgiveness.

After that first day of punishment, when Jensen had felt like his arms were going to be ripped from their sockets, Mark had lowered him to the ground and told him to get some rest.

“Tomorrow you can have the day off,” Mark said. “We’ll resume your punishments the day after.”

Jensen had known that sounded too good to be true, and of course it was.

The next morning Mark had entered the playroom lugging a wooden box, as long as a coffin but much narrower.

Jensen started shaking his head. “No,” he moaned. “No, no, nonono.”

It seemed Mark had been busy in his woodshop. He forced Jensen into the box right after his morning cleaning, and didn’t let him out for 24 hours. Jensen was given a couple of bottles of water and some kibble to keep with him inside, and by the 18th hour or so Jensen’s bladder would give out and he’d have to spend the next few hours lying in his own stinking piss.

It was such a tight fit that he couldn’t even roll over onto his side, and though he knew there were air holes up behind his head the darkness seemed absolute.

The claustrophobia he felt in the box was not helped in the least by the rubbery paws that fit tightly over his fists and his feet, running up to his knees and his elbows so that his extremities always felt hot and sweaty. As promised, the puppy feet Mark had bought him pointed his feet uncomfortably like a ballerina’s slippers, so even when he was released from his confining prison he had to crawl like an animal.

Each morning that he was imprisoned in the box Jensen would vow to stay silent the whole time and Mark could go fuck himself, but usually around hour ten he started pounding at the lid and screaming to be let out.   
  
It was like being buried alive.  
  
  
  
  
“Is there any part of you that hasn’t been reprimanded yet?” Mark asked one day as he walked around Jensen in a circle. Jensen was slumped over on his knees, miserable in his sweaty rubbery paws, and wondering if it would be worth the electric chair to bite through Mark’s neck until he bled to death.  
  
He was definitely leaning towards “yes.”  
  
Mark always  _always_  seemed to know what Jensen was thinking. Within seconds, Jensen was once again suffering the jaw strain from a painfully large gag. This one held his mouth open with a ring though instead of a ball.  
  
“Get this out of the way,” Mark muttered as he unzipped his pants and shoved his dick down Jensen’s throat.  
  
He was especially hard and came quickly, which probably meant he had something especially depraved planned.  
  
God, Jensen couldn’t wait to kill this fucking guy. Slow.  
  
When Mark was finished and his come was dribbling down Jensen’s chin, he was dragged over to the wooden table that Jensen hoped to one day burn down to smoldering ash. He cuffed Jensen’s rubbery mitts behind his back and then positioned him face up so he was resting on his elbows. Then he spread Jensen's legs out and chained an ankle to either table leg.  
  
He removed the gag and Jensen spat the taste of Mark’s come onto the floor. “You know," Jensen rasped, "you really don’t need a ring gag that big, Pee-Wee.”  
  
Mark ignored him and continued fiddling with something Jensen couldn’t see.  
  
“What do you know about butterfly boarding?”  
  
Every time Mark asked what he knew about something, Jensen soon learned more about it than he ever, ever wanted to.  
  
 __ What do you know about sounding?  
  
What do you know about figging?  
  
What do you know about priapism?   
  
“Nothing,” Jensen said. “Why don’t you do it to yourself first and then I’ll see if I’m interested?”  
  
“Now see, that’s why I like you,” Mark said as he placed a mirror near Jensen’s thigh and angled it towards his crotch. “You’ve got a lot of spirit.”  
  
He picked up a square of soft balsa wood that had an odd-shaped hole cut out of the middle.  
  
Jensen started to have a very bad feeling about butterfly boarding.  
  
“I've never doubted that I could break you, you know” Mark continued. “But I find you amusing the way you are.”  
  
He rested his elbows on the table and leaned close to Jensen, almost as though they were about to kiss.  
  
“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Mark said. “This is all so much worse for you because you won’t break. Your friend, the one they used to call Jared? He’s so much happier than you because Jeff fucking  _shattered_ him.”  
  
“Don’t you talk about him,” Jensen snapped.  
  
“But you?” Mark continued as though Jensen hadn’t spoken. “The fact that you continue to struggle and fight me? Gets me harder than anything.”  
  
Mark returned his attention to the board as Jensen thought over what he'd said.  
  
He was fucked. So completely fucked. If he broke, Mark won. If he kept fighting, Mark won.  
  
He sagged back against the table in defeat and Mark said “Uh-uh, you’re gonna wanna see this.”  
  
Jensen raised himself wearily to his elbows again and watched as Mark pulled his cock and balls through the hole in the wood so his genitals were arranged…  
  
…like an insect about to be mounted with pins.  
  
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jensen yelled as he tried to twist away.  
  
“I recommend that you hold  _very_  still for me, you dumb dog,” Mark said. “I mean, I don’t really care if you end up castrated, but you might.”  
  
And Jensen held still, held very, very still as Mark used a series of 21-gauge needles to pin the tender skin that surrounded his penis and testicles to the wooden board.  
  
It hurt, of course, every needle Mark sank into the sensitive flesh hurt, and there were many, many needles. Watching Mark work at the delicate task was worse though, and seeing his cock and his balls pinned into place with more than two dozen needles was extremely unsettling.  
  
“There,” Mark said with satisfaction when the last needle went in. “No permanent damage, just tiny little pinpricks.”  
  
When Mark started removing the needles, the drops of blood that welled up on his genitals made Jensen feel faint.  
  
He tried to look away but Mark grabbed his chin and forced him to watch.  
  
“Say you’re sorry.”  
  
“Fuck you.”   
  
“I don’t think you’d enjoy that too much in your current predicament.”  
  
“You know there are probably men all over the world who would line up for this kind of shit,” Jensen said through gritted teeth.  
  
“Pff, masochists, what fun are they?” Mark asked as he gently removed another needle.  
  
  
  
  
  
The next morning, when Jensen was facing his ninth day of confinement, he told Mark that he would never refute what had been shown on the news, even if Mark locked him in that terrible box for the rest of his sentence. Even if he actually did castrate Jensen.  
  
“Actually, I just haven’t decided yet if that’s the best course of action,” Mark said. “Those do-gooders don’t know who you are and I think it might be better to keep it that way. But if I decide you’ll do it? You’ll do it.”  
  
“There’s nothing you can do to me that will make me tell lies for you,” Jensen spat.  
  
Mark raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Nothing?”  
  
“Nothing!”  
  
Mark removed the top of the box and gestured for Jensen to crawl back inside. His limbs felt heavy with dread but he resolutely lowered himself back into the darkness. Mark fitted the lid into place and secured all the locks before he pressed his face to the screen that lay at the top of the box by Jensen's head.  
  
“How hard do you think it would be, you miserable fuck,” Mark asked quietly, “for me to get one of my cop buddies to plant a pound of heroin in your little sister’s car?”  
  
Jensen’s heart stuttered in terror.  
  
“Do you think she’d enjoy being my p.e.t. too? Do you think she’d like being fucked by me? Being fucked by your puppy boyfriend? Being fucked by her own brother?”  
  
Jensen felt a clawing panic and he struggled to breathe.  
  
“No,” he gasped, feeling dizzy. “No. You can’t. No.”  
  
“You’ll do what I tell you, when I tell you. And don’t you fucking forget it.” And then Mark was gone, leaving Jensen alone in the dark with his misery and fear and rage for another 23 hours and 50 minutes.  


 

 


End file.
